


Queens Die Proudly

by fictorium



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Curses, Dystopia, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:24:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something really angsty with Regina as a prisoner and Emma saving her </p><p>Title from the Juliette Commagère album of the same name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Emma takes Henry’s hand and pulls him across the street to where Mary Margaret and David are waiting in the station wagon. She watches the concrete closely for further cracks, looking uneasily at the sinkhole that used to hold Granny’s and the Animal Shelter, now just smoking rubble in a hole. The night sky is dark and threatening, illuminated only by the fires raging all over town. Overturned cars and windows smashed by looters leave Emma feeling like she walked right into a zombie movie, and it’s making her very, very nervous.    
  
“Go with them, kid,” Emma commands, coughing from the smoke that’s hanging thickly in the air.    
  
“I want to stay with you,” Henry pleads, clinging to Emma’s arm like it’s that damn door at the end of Titanic. She can feel the tears welling, feel her resolve weakening and so she shrugs him off.    
  
”No,” she says sadly. “David, will you get him buckled in?”    
  
“Emma—” Mary Margaret says from the driver’s seat. “You don’t have to do this. You could come with us now.”    
  
“I do,” Emma says, shaking her head. “She’s Henry’s mom. She’s my…”    
  
“Yeah,” Mary Margaret says, tears beginning to spill. “And I know you have to find her. You can blame genetics for that one.”    
  
“Sorry,” Emma says. “I know we only just got to know each other, but—”    
  
“Find her,” David says, laying a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “And then meet us in Portland like we planned. Nothing else is acceptable to me.”    
  
Emma hugs him, careful of his injured shoulder. This is what it’s like to have a father, she thinks. This is what it’s like to be proud of where you came from. She pulls away too soon for her liking, and reaches into the back seat to kiss Henry firmly on his cheek.    
  
“I love you, kid,” Emma says, choking on the unfamiliar words. “And your Mom loves you, too. We’re going to see you in Portland, okay?”    
  
“I love you, Emma,” Henry blurts. “Don’t die. Please don’t die. And don’t let my Mom die.”    
  
“I won’t,” Emma promises, knowing there’s at least a fifty percent chance she’s lying. “But Ruby seems pretty sure we can find her. Okay,” she says, straightening up and closing the door. “Get going,” she adds, slapping the side of the car.    
  
David and Mary Margaret smile weakly at her from the front seat, before Mary Margaret relents and guns the engine.    
  
“Please make it to Portland,” is all she says, leaving Emma to wave them off.    
  
*    
  
Ruby, true to her word, finds the shack on the outskirts of the forest. Emma reaches for her flashlight and her gun, only to find Ruby gripping her wrist.    
  
“What?” She asks, flicking the Bug’s overhead light on, only to discover that Ruby is as pale as her white shirt used to be. The shirt is smeared with dirt and soot, and an increasingly huge red stain. “Oh, no,” Emma cries softly. “No, Ruby.”    
  
“The glass, from that last explosion,” Ruby explains, trying to shrug but wincing in pain. “I knew you’d try to help instead of letting me bring you here.”    
  
“Someone could have—”    
  
“There’s no one left, Emma,” Ruby reminds her. “Rats always flee a sinking ship. You know that.”    
  
“Let me help you,” Emma pleads, scrabbling around in the messy backseat for anything that might make a decent bandage. Anything has to be better than the weakening pressure of Ruby’s own hand pressing on the wound.    
  
“Emma,” Ruby says again, her voice weakening. “I know—I knew, right away, okay? Now that I remember I know things about my body… there was nothing you could have done.”    
  
“But Rubes,” Emma protests, taking her own hands and pressing them down on top of Ruby’s own. “There might still be time.”    
  
“No,” Ruby whispers. “There’s no more time. Find her, Emma. Go get your kid and have a happily ever after or some shit like that. Let me have helped you find that.”    
  
“You’re my best friend,” Emma says, her voice shaking in the small space. Ruby doesn’t reply, and a few long moments later Emma notices her breathing has stopped. “No!” Emma wails. “No, come on, no.”    
  
She lifts her shaking, bloodied hands and brushes Ruby’s hair from her face. She’s smiling, just a little, Emma notices. Ruby looks peaceful. Emma places a kiss on Ruby’s cheek (like she did with Henry, like Ruby did with Ashley when they found her in the rubble of the bakery) and slips out of the car.    
  
There’s a tremble in the ground, and the smoke in the air is thickening, but Emma can’t make herself move. Instead she leans against her car, the only constant in her life these past eight years (she drove out of Tallahassee in it, the day she bought it) and lets her first tears of the day come.    
  
The first punch is just lashing out in frustration, the side of her fist hitting the roof as the sobs wrack her body. But the pain feels good, sharp and new and something to hold on to. Emma hits the car again, pummelling the roof now with her fists. She’s shouting—something, who the hell knows what—and kicking the side panels hard enough to maybe break a toe or two. It’s good, it’s better, it’s the push she needs to keep going.    
  
When it hurts too much to keep going, she rounds the car and carefully pulls Ruby from the passenger seat. It’s not enough, not even close to what her friend deserves, but Emma does the best she can. There’s a beautiful old tree just a few feet away, and Emma lays Ruby’s body out at the foot, crossing her hands over her chest. It’s hardly a shroud, but Emma shrugs out of her leather jacket and covers as much of Ruby’s body as she can, hiding the angry red stain from sight. There are no flowers anywhere near, so Emma returns to the car and pulls the wolf charm from her rearview mirror, a gift from Ruby when all this started; a talisman to keep her safe.    
  
She places the little glass wolf in Ruby’s hands and muttering a half-forgotten prayer, walks away. Another explosion from the direction of the town confirms that time is still ticking down. Emma picks up into a run as she approaches the cabin, wiping tears with the back of her hand as she goes. 


	2. Chapter 2

She’s expecting the worst: carnage, devastation, maybe a nasty little trap or two, but Emma kicks the cabin door open to discover what appears to be a dusty little living room, nothing more. Her heart sinks as she considers the very real possibility that Ruby could have been wrong; it’s not like she’s going to get a second chance.    
  
Emma sighs and, gun cocked, begins a slow exploration of the small space. She’s all but given up, sweeping the kitchen last, when she hears the thump. It could be mice, she tells herself. She’s in the middle of nowhere, for fuck’s sake, and she’s hardly the most reliable at the moment with all her senses in overdrive.    
  
Still, she holds her breath. Still, she waits.    
  
There it is again, from the wall on her right. Emma would be surprised—there’s only the side of a hill on that side of the cabin—but she’s sighing because it already makes the weird kind of sense that she’s still getting used to. She searches the wall frantically, patting her hands over rough, damp wood to find the lever or hidden switch. Search after search brings up nothing, until her temper flares again and she lashes out with her right foot. That, apparently, is all it takes to send the wood panels rolling silently back.    
  
Emma takes a deep breath, because if video games taught her anything, this is the point when all bets are off. She steps into the corridor reluctantly, shaking her head at the flaming torches that are dotted along the walls. It’s not the strangest part of the world that’s been changing around her, but she can’t quite get used to how these people like things a certain, old-fashioned way.    
  
She hurries as best she can, waiting for swords to come out of the dirt walls, or some Indiana Jones shit with a boulder, but all is quiet. It only makes Emma more nervous, more sure that she’s too late. Nobody has seen Gold since he fled the asylum with that girl in tow, and Emma feels sure that if he’s hiding out anywhere it’ll be at whatever prison he’s keeping Regina in.    
  
Eventually, the room opens up into a cavern, of sorts, and Emma drops back against the wall, scanning with her gun and flashlight held high, although the light is better in here, she can see the rough wooden spikes that form some kind of cell.    
  
“Emma?” The voice isn’t familiar, not the one she wants, but just hearing her name gives Emma a fresh infusion of hope. It feels like the first mouthful of coffee after a sleepless night, like jumping headfirst into cold water at the beach.    
  
“I’m here,” Emma says, not too loudly. She doesn’t want to alert any more people than necessary to her presence. “Kathryn?” She asks, as her memory catches up with her newfound alertness.    
  
“Yeah,” Kathryn confirms, stepping out of the shadows to grip the wooden bars. “She’s in here with me, Emma.”    
  
“Oh God,” Emma sighs in relief, her knees actually giving way with the force of relief. “Is she—” she asks as her knees impact hard on the dry soil of the floor. “Is she—?”    
  
“I’m fine,” says a rasping voice that Emma would know anywhere. “Well, almost.”    
  
“She’s hurt,” Kathryn confirms. “He just… he left us here. He said I could go, but I couldn’t leave her, Emma.”    
  
“You did the right thing,” Emma confirms, getting to her feet and reaching for Kathryn’s hand through the bars. “Is it locked?”    
  
“There’s no lock,” Kathryn says sadly. “I’ve looked and looked but I can’t find a way out. He put them up with… I don’t know, magic, I guess?”    
  
Kathryn’s discomfort echoes Emma’s own. Perhaps it’s the additional trauma she’s been through in Storybrooke, but she doesn’t have her memory back yet, beyond flashes. Not everyone does, but when the town started burning and the blood started spilling, people believed enough to turn tail and run.    
  
“It’s still wood,” Regina says. “Emma, please?”    
  
It’s the worst thing Emma’s heard in a long time, the sound of Regina begging. She’s still hidden some dark corner of the cell and not seeing her is making Emma crazy. But besides the quiet despair in Regina’s voice, Emma hears the message, too.    
  
Stepping back, she scans the room for what she needs. She finds herself wishing for a chainsaw, now, but the rusty axe in the corner will have to do. She gives it a trial swing, relieved when it swishes and sings as she moves it through the air. And if it makes the pain in her back worse, so be it. They have no choice.    
  
“Get as far back as you can,” Emma warns, and Kathryn melts back into the shadows without needing to be told twice. Emma lifts the axe and this time when she swings there’s a victorious creak and thud to greet her blade.    
  
She smiles, for the first time in days.    
  
Halfway through, she has to pause. The ache is her back is roaring now, muscles rippling without her permission as they try to dance away from the pain coursing through them. Sweat drips into her eyes and Emma swipes it away by pulling up her tank top; there’s really no time for modesty now.    
  
“He said no one would come for us,” Kathryn says from somewhere in the dark. She sounds younger, a little broken. “He told me that if I stayed here, we’d be left to die.” She’s crying now, big, angry sobs like the ones Emma has just cried for Ruby.    
  
“I’m here,” Emma repeats. “I’m here.” It’s for Regina’s benefit, too, because Emma doesn’t like how quiet she’s being. That alone spurs her to pick up the axe again, to push just a little bit harder for a little while longer. She’s so close she can almost taste it.    
  
“Henry?” Regina asks, and that’s enough to stop Emma mid-swing.    
  
“He’s with… he’s with my parents,” Emma assures her. “He’s fine. Not a scratch on him.” She doesn’t mention the mental scars, the things that Henry’s seen these past few days. They’ll deal with that when they’re safe, when they’re together.    
  
Regina doesn’t reply and so, with renewed determination and the second wind of being so close, Emma starts chopping until the piece of wood splinters and falls, finally leaving enough space for her to push her way inside.    
  
She has the presence of mind to speak to Kathryn first, but only just.    
  
“Stand outside the cell,” Emma orders. “Just in case. We shouldn’t all be in here together.”    
  
Kathryn rushes towards the gap, not needing to be told twice. That she picks up the discarded axe just makes Emma like her a little bit more.    
  
But that leaves Regina, and Emma can finally see her now. Laid out on a stone slab that’s probably supposed to be a bed, Regina looks as bad as Emma’s ever seen her. She winces as she takes in the swelling above Regina’s eye, the cuts and bruises that pepper every inch of exposed skin. The dried blood that makes Emma sick to her stomach, and the way that Regina’s right leg is bent means nothing good at all.    
  
“Christ,” she breathes, falling to her knees again and skimming her hands lightly over Regina’s body until she finds a safe place to touch without hurting her further.    
  
“No, dear,” Regina offers weakly. “Although when he spent three days in a cave it all worked out, so I have hope.”    
  
“We need to go,” Emma says, trying not to laugh. “I’ve never been so glad to see you. Or anyone. In my life.”    
  
“Then kiss me,” Regina whispers. “I’d say it’s the least you can do.”    
  
Emma does, mindful of Regina’s split lip. It’s too brief, but it’s soft and Regina’s lips are warm and that’s really the only thing that matters. For hours now Emma’s been tormenting herself with years of fairytale images, wondering that—if it came to it—a kiss would ever be enough. She’s overjoyed, almost weak with knowing that it’s everything, that it’s absolutely enough.    
  
“Hold on to me,” Emma commands, using her limited first aid knowledge to wrangle Regina into position and support her broken leg when she stands.    
  
“Like I’m letting you go now,” Regina mutters, rolling her eyes. Emma has to squint a little, but she finds the hidden romance in it.    
  
The walls shake violently when they squeeze through the space in the bars, and Emma is horrified at the sudden thought that Gold will have rigged the place to blow should Regina escape. But it’s still the chaos of the town falling apart, Emma realizes after a minute, and she wants to cry that this isn’t some horrible game where now she has to finish the Big Boss after the trauma of actually completing the level.    
  
Kathryn takes up Regina’s other side, and Emma is grateful for the help. She’s running on fumes now, her whole life reduced to the woman in her arms and getting to the car a couple of hundred yards away. She can taste fear with every step, certain that worse is still to come. It feels like an actual miracle when they stumble out into the dusty kitchen and there’s no madman waiting to kill them. In a movie, Emma would be pissed about the anti-climax. Right now she’s just hoping she can make it to the car without passing out.    
  
“Can you—” Emma asks, as she stumbles. Kathryn takes the hint, leading Regina the rest of the way to the car by herself. The two women talk quietly as Kathryn reclines the passenger seat and lays Regina down carefully. Emma watches, from where she’s sitting on the damp grass, and feels grateful that she isn’t alone, that Regina’s survival is not dependent on her. She’s never felt much like a savior, not least of all today.    
  
“Wait, is that…” Kathryn trails off, staring at the foot of the spruce tree. “Oh Emma, is that Ruby?”    
  
“Yeah,” Emma sighs. “It was too late, I couldn’t… she was so brave and I couldn’t…”    
  
“I’m so sorry,” Kathryn says quietly. “But don’t you dare blame yourself. Now, have you got supplies, Sheriff?” It’s an obvious attempt to distract, to force Emma back to practical things, and she’s grateful for it. But she does blame herself; she always will. Some day, no matter what, Emma knows she’ll come back to this spot and give Ruby some kind of memorial, some kind of proper marker for the impact she had on this earth. She deserves to be remembered.   
  
“In the trunk,” Emma heaves the words out with some difficulty. “Water, some energy bars. You both look like hell.”    
  
“Okay,” Kathryn nods, and Emma can see the exhaustion etched into her pretty face. “Get in the back, Emma. I’ll drive for a while.”    
  
“Can you drive stick?” Emma asks, clambering to her feet. Her legs are so heavy she doesn’t know if she’ll get there, but she does. She curses the lack of rear doors on her beloved Bug and basically falls into the backseat, careful not to jostle Regina as she goes.    
  
“Let’s find out,” Kathryn says as she pulls the driver’s seat back into position, handing out snacks like a schoolteacher on a field trip. Emma slugs the water back gratefully, and turns to look at the encroaching orange glow from the town behind them.    
  
“Let’s go,” she says, and Kathryn starts the car running—first time, thank God—with an energy bar still stuck in her mouth.    
  
“You’re quiet,” Emma says, leaning in towards Regina. “Anything I need to know?”    
  
“Pain,” Regina whispers, grimacing. Emma takes her hand carefully, fumbling around for her purse with the other.    
  
“Here,” Emma presses a pill bottle into Regina’s hand. “It’s just Tylenol, but it’s better than nothing.”    
  
“Thank you,” Regina murmurs, shaking out a handful of pills and tipping them into her mouth. Emma offers her own open water bottle to save Regina wrestling with hers.    
  
“Where should we go?” Kathryn asks as they approach the main road. “Other than ‘the hell out of here’, I mean?” She’s coped just fine with the driving so far, and Emma’s relieved that she can sink back into the backseat, relaxing just a little.    
  
“Portland,” Emma says. She hadn’t dared speak the word inside the prison, sure that Gold will have left some way of spying on them. “We’re going to Portland.”    
  
“You want to give me a left or right, maybe?” Kathryn asks as they roll to a stop at the turning. Emma laughs at that, and the sound is alien to her.    
  
“Left,” she confirms, reaching out just enough to skim her fingers over Regina’s arm. The need for contact isn’t going anywhere, not any time soon. Emma won’t feel secure until they can get to a hospital, for a start. She can’t feel safe that Regina is returned to her until she knows she won’t be taken away again.    
  
“This isn’t the end,” Regina sighs as they speed along the dark road, only the Bug’s weak-ass headlights carving out some visibility. “I mean, he’s gone, for now. But it isn’t over.”    
  
“I figured,” Emma says, laying back to look at the ceiling of her battered, faithful car. “Let’s just get to Portland, hmm? Henry’s waiting.”    
  
She closes her eyes, feeling the bumps in the road smooth out as they pick up speed, heading out of town.


End file.
